• Rural Is Good; Rural Is Sacred

    From jimmyw836@gmail.com@21:1/5 to All on Fri Aug 16 11:22:53 2019
    I grew up in rural Western North Carolina smoking rabbit tobacco, munching chinquapins, learning how to cuss, stalking rabbits and squirrels through the woods, jumping out of the way of timber rattlers, taking sips of moonshine, dipping my toes into the
    creeks and swimming holes, chasing corn-fed girls, and locking the wheels of my hotrod onto the shoulders of the curves so that centrifugal force would not throw me into the Ivy River.

    What in the hell has happened to this newsgroup?

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  • From Dean Hoffman@21:1/5 to jimmyw836@gmail.com on Sat Aug 17 06:05:03 2019
    On 8/16/19 1:22 PM, jimmyw836@gmail.com wrote:

    I grew up in rural Western North Carolina smoking rabbit tobacco, munching chinquapins, learning how to cuss, stalking rabbits and squirrels through the woods, jumping out of the way of timber rattlers, taking sips of moonshine, dipping my toes into
    the creeks and swimming holes, chasing corn-fed girls, and locking the wheels of my hotrod onto the shoulders of the curves so that centrifugal force would not throw me into the Ivy River.

    What in the hell has happened to this newsgroup?

    Just guessin' that the former denizens are either in rest homes or cemeteries. It was interesting at one time. There were people from
    Australia, Britain, and some Americans.
    Plus the number of farmers continues to decline. I see all sorts of
    abandoned farmsteads in east central Nebraska. I grew on a farm and can
    point to some spots where there were farmsteads. Now there are fields.

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  • From Colonel Edmund J. Burke@21:1/5 to jimmyw836@gmail.com on Fri Aug 23 13:07:40 2019
    XPost: alt.war.vietnam

    On 8/16/2019 11:22 AM, jimmyw836@gmail.com wrote:

    I grew up in rural Western North Carolina smoking rabbit tobacco, munching chinquapins, learning how to cuss, stalking rabbits and squirrels through the woods, jumping out of the way of timber rattlers, taking sips of moonshine, dipping my toes into
    the creeks and swimming holes, chasing corn-fed girls, and locking the wheels of my hotrod onto the shoulders of the curves so that centrifugal force would not throw me into the Ivy River.

    What in the hell has happened to this newsgroup?


    Did your dad teach you how to do blumpkins, little feller?

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